


Heartsigh

by sundayrice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Dancing, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, No Angst, issa bit gay, post-canon au where everything is happy and no one is dead, this is good times only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-01-28 14:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundayrice/pseuds/sundayrice
Summary: Family isn't the people you're born with, it's the people you find. And sometimes, you just happen to find family with the perfect people.-//-A Promnis FFXV drabble collection for all my fluffy things. No angst here, this is Good Times Only.





	1. the food tastes better when we're together

**Author's Note:**

> featuring all the lovely prompts that folks send me on my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/sukukajas)! if you have any ideas for something you'd like me to write, send it on over! (no smut, please!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: cooking together, suddenly interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in a post-game au where everything is okay and happy and we have four big gays in an apartment together.

Perhaps it would've been a better idea if they had moved into the Citadel. Realistically, their two bedroom apartment is fine, although it's a lot more cramped than some people – Noctis, mostly – would like it to be.

For Prompto though, this is nothing short of heaven. Compared to his childhood home, this place takes more out of his pockets that he could ever hope to earn in a single lifetime. Did he ever do anything to earn this kindness; Prompto often thinks he didn't. But he's just happy to be  _here_ with  _them_ and not anywhere else.

Outside the window of their high-rise building, dusk starts to settle in. Another evening, another dinner to prepare. In the evenings, Prompto getting into the habit of helping Ignis cook, more often than anything else. He can't exactly call himself a professional by any means but, where no one else was willing to step in, the responsibility lies on him. Gladio can only be called a cook if the recipe was either pancakes or fried eggs. And Noctis, well, those ten years inside the crystal and cooking probably was the furthest from his mind. _"You'd be better off giving a toddler a frying pan,"_  Ignis had teased. Lazy fucks basically, that's what they are.

Not that he really minded helping out, of course, any chance to spend more time with Ignis is bliss. Especially with the four of them reunited again, he revels in the peaceful moments they shared once more.

Ignis is already stationed in the kitchen, washing some vegetables under the tap. As Prompto approaches, Ignis shuts off the water and turns his head.

"Someone there?"

"Hey Iggy," Prompto says. "Was just wondering if you needed some help."

Ignis smiles. "At the moment? Not quite. Soon? Perhaps. Thanks anyways, Prompto."

"Oh, uh, sure. No problem."

Prompto swears, whenever Ignis decides to flash a smile, it was a smile that could kill. Of course, Ignis doesn't think anything of it and turns back to focus on his cooking.

Prompto finds himself getting lost watching Ignis. Whatever he's doing, whether it be cutting vegetables or cutting daemons, he has a certain grace to the way he moves. He's fixed intently on Ignis as he began cutting up scallions. The way he handled a knife, it's almost as though he'd been born with it in hand. He was careful, he had to be, with a type of precision that only a Glaive could have.

"Prompto," Ignis starts, drawing Prompto out of his little trance. "Would you mind peeling those potatoes for me in the meantime? I assume they're still by the sink."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Prompto says. 

His face is starting to turn a bit pink. At times like this, he's grateful Ignis can't see him staring. It gives him more time to focus on Ignis without worrying about being embarrassed. The sharp edge of his jaw or the beautiful curve of his lips, Prompto loves it all. For Six's sake, he was 30 years old by now and he still felt like a crushing teen around Ignis.

Ignis can't see Prompto staring, no, but Noctis and Gladio most certainly can.

Prompto shoots a look at the two of them who are currently cuddling – or in Noctis's case, sleeping probably – on their living room couch. Gladio is busy reading another novel, lazily running his hand through Noctis's hair as he tries to turn the page with the other hand left free. Noctis has his head resting on Gladio's lap either asleep or his eyelids drifting somewhere between open and closed. Prompto can't really tell.

"I truly appreciate the help, Prompto," Ignis says. "It's more than  _others_  are willing to do, that's for certain."

Suddenly, Noctis sits straight up. "Hey, cut me a fucking break, I was busy dying out there," Noctis grumbled though he had a humorous tone to his voice. His voice still has a bit of a rasp to it, a leftover from his entire body restarting from the dead. "Being king's tough work, you know."

"Perhaps, but you're far from dead now," Ignis says. "And being king doesn't mean you're unable to help in the kitchen, Noct."

"Sure _wish_ it did."

 

|||

 

Noctis and Gladio were growing restless, it seems. Lazy fucks and impatient fucks, but Prompto loves them all the same.

From the corner of his eye, Prompto notices Noctis taking out his phone. Gladio smirks and drops his book, diverting all attention onto whatever was on Noctis's phone. The two of them are bickering about something, though Prompto simply brushes it off and continues peeling.

Then it falls to dead silence.

And then music. _Ballroom music?_ Coming from somewhere, although Prompto can't exactly tell where it's coming from.

That is, until Gladio and Noctis start giggling like a bunch of primary school children. Gladio takes a hold over Noctis's phone, though Noctis quickly snatches it back and begins fiddling around with the volume. It was loud enough that Ignis seemed to notice it too, though he doesn't do much about it aside from let out an exasperated sigh.

"Seriously Noct?" Prompto says.

"What?" Noctis says. "You two are so boring, thought I'd fix that."

Prompto almost cuts himself with the knife. "You can't be serious."

"I am serious, you're so boring," Noctis teases. "You won't even give him a hug. Gods, you're the worst boyfriend ever."

"Noct _-_ "

Gladio grabs Noctis's phone from out of his hands and turns up the music. "C'mon lovebirds, less talk, more dancing!"

While Ignis is about to open his mouth and protest, Prompto gently drops the knife he was holding and wraps his free arm around Ignis's waist. With the other, Prompto makes the two of them lock hands.

"Just humor them a bit, Iggy," Prompto says. "Besides I, uh, wouldn't exactly mind a little dance."

Ignis jerks his head to the side. _Was he blushing?_ "Then, perhaps, I wouldn't either."

With one fluid motion, he draws Ignis in closer until their foreheads bump against each other with a hard smack. Prompto winces at the pain before he breaks into a fit of laughing. Ignis keeps it together for a few seconds, but before he realizes it, his lips are quivering and he can't help but join in laughing too.

Prompto readjusts himself until him and Ignis are staring face to face. Ignis gently runs his thumbs over Prompto's face, tracing the outline of his lips. Prompto's heart is pounding straight out of his chest and his breathing comes in quick draws. With every breath, he forgets how to work his lungs.

"Has your face always been this pretty?" Prompto mutters, without really thinking, before turning his head to the side.

Ignis's finger traces along Prompto's face again while they continued to sway from side to side. First, he runs his index finger over Prompto's forehead, works his way down to the cheeks and then finally pauses over his lips once more.

"Not nearly as pretty as yours," Ignis says.

Prompto smirks. "And how would you know?"

"You think I would forget such a beautiful face so quickly?"

Prompto pauses. Gods, that was such a cheesy answer. wasn't it? But even still, Prompto can't help but blush. Ignis, his voice, his sultry voice makes it all too hard not too.

"W-Well, aren't you a flatterer," Prompto teases, first a bit unsteady but he quickly regains himself. His mind really is his worst enemy at this point. "But that's not good enough for me."

"And how do you propose I make it up to you then."

"With a kiss, maybe."

The mix of Gladio's obnoxious laughter and Noctis's not-so-subtle snickering broke through any romantic tension that had been there. But even still, they ignore them and Ignis draws Prompto in a little closer.

Just as Ignis is about to move in some more, Prompto takes charge and presses his lips against Ignis's. Ignis hold onto him, soft and gentle as his hands trace circles on Prompto's waist. Prompto adjusts himself ever so slightly and his nose bumps into the rim of Ignis's glasses.

They break apart and Prompto has the distinct honor of watching Ignis's eyelashes flutter as he tries to open his eyes. He holds the lingering taste of Ignis's lip balm on his tongue. Looking back at Ignis, his hair is slightly disheveled and his glasses sit crooked on his face. Prompto falls into laughter again, though more subdued this time.

Ignis, from his end, doesn't really know what was going on. "Did something happen?"

Prompto reaches for Ignis's face and adjusts his glasses back to normal. "Oh nothing, just goofed up a bit," Prompto laughs. "But, uh wow. Thanks for that."

"You're the one I should be thanking," Ignis says and pulls Prompto in for a hug. As the music begins to fade away, the two of them rock gently from side to side.

Over on the couch, Gladio tears through the growing silence with his loud clapping and a few giggles that he tried – and failed – to hide. Noctis is the same. And while his laughter is far more quiet, delicate, he's pretty bad at hiding it too.

"That was cute, huh Noct?" Gladio teases as he tugs at Noctis's hair.

"No way," Noctis says before pressing a kiss on Gladio's cheek. "You two are so gross."


	2. caffè latte, and make it extra sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: mutual pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> supposed to be mutual pining, turned into, not quite that. but please enjoy anyways.

Prompto’s confided in Noctis at least once or twice about his feelings. It's usually on a Saturday night after their usual rounds of delivery pizza and fighting games. He's told Noctis a lot of things, mostly things he regrets ever saying, and Noctis always couples it with some sort of snide remark. Snarky, but in that genuine kind of way.

“Yeah, that’s what Ignis does to people,” Noctis said. "Like, not to be gay or anything but he's pretty cute, huh."

Prompto's face turned into a pout. Noctis liked to call them the 'puppy-dog eyes'. " _Yeah,_ and that's the problem," he said. "There's no way someone like him isn't already taken. Or he's into someone else. _Or_ he isn't even into guys. Like he could be—"

“Just go _talk_ to him,” Noctis said, pressing a finger up to Prompto's lips. "Trust me, Specs isn't actually that scary. And he's definitely not straight."

Whatever Prompto wanted to say, he forgot. Instead, he went for elbowing Noctis in the gut.

 _Stupid fucker_ , Prompto thought. Both of them are pretty useless when it comes to romance and Noctis shouldn’t go around saying things like that if he wouldn’t do it himself.

 

|||

  
Noctis's apartment is now a sanctuary for Prompto and Ignis to hang out, apparently. It's almost like he's been doing this deliberately, creating situations where Prompto and Ignis are alone together.

This time, Ignis tells Prompto that Noctis wanted him to come over for tutoring. Ignis is reasonably confused when the door opens and a half-asleep Prompto answers the door instead.

"He's not home right now. Went to go get pizza."

Ignis simply sighs and sets down his things. His first instinct seems to be to grab the clean pot of coffee and start making himself a cup. He's quick to offer Prompto a cup too, which Prompto doesn't know how to do anything else but accept. Surely the caffeine can take his nerves off the situation.

It's not deliberate, but Prompto’s hand brushes over Ignis’ as they sit at Noct’s coffee table. Just as he's trying to reach for the still-warm cup, his hand always ends up bumping into Ignis's. His face goes red. Prompto realizes it sooner rather than later; his heartbeat is going out of control too. He’s trying his best not to let the red show on his face.  
  
Ignis lowers his eyes from Prompto’s gaze. Is he blushing too? The steam from the coffee makes it hard to tell.  
  
_Fuck Ignis_ , Prompto thinks as he takes a sip of coffee. Fuck him for being so damn cute and making his heart do these things.   
  
“Uh, Iggy,” Prompto starts, not even sure where he’s going to go from there. The air between them sits hot and heavy, awkward with all of the words left unsaid.  
  
It’s like his brain short circuits for a second and then suddenly, there’s the feeling of warmth pressed against his lips. He realizes. Ignis is kissing him.

Ignis is kissing him.

Hell, Prompto almost drops the cup in his surprise. All of a sudden, this is happening. What this even is, he doesn't know, Ignis just went on him all passionate. And Prompto, his lips are starting to move faster than his brain can keep up.   
  
He wants to say something but doesn’t. He lets the moment play out as Ignis holds onto him a little longer.


	3. don't bend the pages backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: first meeting in school, prompto tutoring ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry but like all of these prompts are gonna be promnis because no one wants me to write anything else, it seems. just so you know, i am perfectly okay with that.

Despite what Ignis likes to tell Noct, he’s a fan of cramming. It’s bad, he knows it and he’s and wrong for doing it. And he's scolded Noct before for doing the exact same as he does.

Today, he's found himself stuck in a bit of rut. Exams are soon. Library closes at 4:00 on weekdays. He doesn't even know why he bothered to take AP Computer Science, and he definitely wouldn't have if he knew it was gonna stress him out this much. He needed to fill that extra subject, but he of all people should've had the foresight to know this was a bad idea.

The library's been dead quiet, all until Ignis hears the shuffling of fabric in the distance. The thud of something dropping to the ground and a chair being pulled back.

Ignis turns backward. A young man with messy blonde hair. Ignis doesn't recognize him as a third-year and his uniform doesn't look like a second-year's either, so he must be one of the first-year students.

He's getting distracted, he really needs to focus on studying but the new sounds in the distance, however small they may be, really aren't helping him any. That shuffling in the background of turning pages, or whenever the boy coughs to clear his throat, it's gonna drive Ignis up a wall.

Ignis’s legs are thumping all over the place, his hands can't find a place to rest. He's a bit hyped up on coffee and a half-finished energy drink that Noctis left on his kitchen counter. His heart is racing out of his damn chest, so fast that Ignis is afraid it's going to burst. It's without all the fluttering feeling of excitement that one might have when they're doing something they enjoy, or if they've fallen in love. Ignis feels none of that. Only stress and dread.

There's a tap on his shoulder. Ignis almost jumps in surprise, he's so damn out of it. It's the blonde boy, mouth slightly agape and his face one of concern. A closer look at his reveals the reddish blush of his face and the myriad of freckles across his skin. He's getting distracted again, and just by looking at this boy's face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he says. “You seemed pretty stressed so, uh, I just wanted to make sure.”

Ignis wants to laugh. He must look like an absolute fool. He's about to respond when he accidentally knocks his textbook off the table and onto the ground.

The blonde boy instinctively crouches to the ground to pick up the book. He takes a few seconds to look at the cover before handing it back to Ignis.

The boy smiles. “Oh cool, you take computer science too?” he says. “I don't think I've ever seen you around—”

“I'm not a first-year,” Ignis says. He realizes quickly afterward that he sounded too patronizing. Shit, he doesn't need to scare the guy. “Ignis Scientia.”

“I’m Prompto Argentum,” he says. Prompto, he knows that name. This is the Prompto that Noctis always talks about, then. He isn't entirely sure what to think of him.

Prompto's attention turns back to the book. “I'm guessing this is what you're studying for?”

Ignis nods. He isn't sure if studying is the right word, but he'll call it that for now.

“Do you mind if I join you then?” Prompto says bashfully. “I don't know I—” his voice trails off.

Ignis was taught to be wary of strangers but in this situation, he can't find anything to be wary of. Maybe he should be more wary, as the advisor of the Prince, he should be concerned that someone like Prompto is a bad influence on Noct. But as a student, he really couldn't give less of a shit. And besides, exams are a sinking boat that everyone has to board. _Why not sink together,_ he thinks.

Ignis starts to pull out another chair close beside him. “Be my guest.”

  
  
|||

 

Ignis wasn't planning on staying until 4:00 but something about Prompto's study idea had convinced him otherwise.

In the end, it was less of studying and more of teaching. Prompto taught and Ignis listened. He has the sort of patient quality that an elementary school teacher might have, although a lot let patronizing than one. Somehow, Prompto keeps his patience, even when Ignis is asking the same questions over and over again about concepts that he doesn't understand.

A prime opportunity for Prompto to flex his computer science muscles, Ignis supposes. Noctis did mention him to be a bit of a tech geek.

It’s not that Ignis needs to knock down his pride a notch, but there was something about being tutored by someone else that left Ignis feeling strange. This is a situation that Ignis isn’t used to, after all. He’s usually the one who takes the lead. He teaches others because they’ve always told to respect him.

“—And actually, I have a few textbooks that you can use too,” Prompto says as he's packing away the last of his things. In his left hand is the aforementioned textbook. A bit thicker than the one Ignis has and paper that's smooth to the touch. The outside is worn but the inside remains in pristine condition.

“I’m usually in the library on Tuesdays so,” Prompto pauses. “If you need any help, just ask.”

Does Noctis talk often about Ignis to his friend? Ignis starts to think that he doesn't because Prompto hasn't quite put two and two together. Ignis is sure he can easily find him, he'll just ask Noctis about him. But then again, would Noctis be suspicious? Would he be worried about Ignis's sudden interest in his friend?

Ignis is overthinking things, as usual. He's got one last week until exam week starts. He'll wait at the library on Tuesday.


	4. knitted mittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: holding hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was smiling so damn wide while i was writing this sappy bullshit.

Huffs of his own breathing, he sees them in the winter air.

Ignis sits across from him, body closed off and arms crossed. The thumping of Prompto’s legs makes the park bench creak. He hopes that Ignis doesn’t notice, but gods, how could he not? Prompto wishes his nerves weren’t so obvious.  
  
“Sorry if this is, uh, if this is awkward but,” Great start, Prompto thinks. His heart’s pounding hard, he wishes he could make it stop. Prompto can barely hear his own thoughts.   
  
“Can I, hold your hand?” A stupid request like this shouldn’t be so hard and yet, to Prompto, it’s still so much.  
  
Ignis hums in response. His hand rests on the empty space in between them.   
  
Yes? Was that a yes? It sounded like yes, but, even then, Prompto can never be sure.  
  
As Prompto’s hand inches closer to him, Ignis starts to withdraw. Whatever he’s done, it’s turned Ignis away from him.  
  
Slowly, Ignis’s tense hand relaxes again, fingers intertwining with Prompto. The fabric of the glove is soft against Prompto’s bare skin. He rests his head on Ignis’s shoulder.  
  
This is new, definitely new. But Prompto likes it. He’d stay here forever if he could. Just the two of them.


	5. he has eyes you'll never forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: love at first sight

“There's someone I want you to meet.”  
  
That phrase is usually never a good sign. More of a looming signal of doom, a death wish as Prompto knows it.  
  
Noctis wants Prompto to meet him at his apartment. Twelve o’clock sharp, according to the text Prompto received yesterday evening.   
  
Two knocks on Noctis's door.   
  
No reply.  
  
Two more knocks.  
  
Still no reply.  
  
Finally, he hears some footsteps from beyond the door, far away first but increasing in volume.  
  
Behind the door isn't Noct, it's a completely unfamiliar face. He too looks a bit taken aback. He must've been expecting Noct to be there just as much as Prompto was.  
  
“Uh,” Prompto says. “Hello.”  
  
He sounds so incredibly uncertain in that ‘hello’, though it's truthfully hard for him to sound any other way.  
  
He takes a good, long look at this stranger. Longer than he probably should.  
  
A sight for sore eyes, Prompto thinks and then immediately shoves the thought away. He's getting distracted from the main issue here.  
  
“Hello,” the stranger says back to him. “You must be Prompto.”  
  
Oh shit, so this stranger already knows about him, does he? Prompto really wants to say more, but his mouth refuses to move. Tongue tied, lip locked.  
  
The stranger's face doesn't change. A mixture between serious and relaxed “Ignis Scientia,” he says. “I'm sure I'm not quite who you expect.”  
  
Ignis Scientia, Prompto silently repeats to himself. Well, Ignis is right about one thing, he isn't who Prompto expected.  
  
Ignis holds out his hand and Prompto takes it in his. Warm, and skin soft expect for the callouses that run along his fingertip. Prompto blushes.  
  
Ignis Scientia. He'll be sure to remember that name.


	6. those three worn words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: pda and little kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure how good i am at writing pda but oh well. i enjoyed writing this so hopefully you'll enjoy reading it.

Falling in love with someone like Prompto; it takes some adjustment. Prompto's a touchy-feely sort of person, far beyond anything that Ignis could ever expect.  
  
He remembers the first time Prompto had slipped an arm around Ignis's shoulder. Innocuous enough, though something about the warm sensation and gentle touch was alien to Ignis. Not that he'd never been held by anyone before but, this time, it felt different.  
  
Difference, though not always bad, is an adjustment.  
  
Sometimes, it gets to a degree that's almost annoying, Ignis thinks, but in a lovable way that he can't quite shake off. Or, that he refuses to shake off.

In the early hours of the morning, as dawn starts to peak it's way through the kitchen window, Ignis tends to take it upon himself to cook breakfast for the two of them. Prompto's not the heaviest sleeper, far from it, but he certainly isn't an early bird and Ignis has come to know this well after their time living together. Usually, he'll receive some kind of half-asleep protest on Prompto's part for doing all the work without him.

A slightly drowsy Prompto stumbles over to the kitchen. He's wearing nothing but a baggy concert t-shirt and some dark red boxers.

Slowly, Prompto comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Ignis's waist, swaying side to side like he's caught into a waltz. Ignis is taken a bit by surprise, though he should honestly be used to it by now. If there's one thing that Prompto knows how to do, it's how to be affectionate.  
  
“Stop that, love, I'm trying to cook,” he says, with a delicate laugh, as Prompto peppers his neck with a flurry of light kisses and gentle, calloused hands work their way under the fabric of his shirt.  
  
Almost absent-mindedly focused on the sizzling pan of scrambled eggs, he briefly turns around to give Prompto a kiss on the forehead.  
  
“Good morning, love,” he whispers.  
  
“Good morning,” Prompto whispers back, into the crook of his neck. It sends a shiver down Ignis's spine; he feels like he's going to melt with Prompto's gentle touch.  
  
Maybe, growing up, Ignis never was one for soft displays of affection, gentle touches or the swift drifting of a hand until it rests on his thigh.   
  
But now, standing here, as Prompto's soft lips press all along his neck and back and a stray hand reaches to fiddle with the chains of his necklace, Ignis can't say he minds all that much. Oh, he doesn't mind at all.


	7. the feeling is electric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: milkshake date

There's this one cheap little dinner in the back alleys of Insomnia that Prompto's always wanted to go to. Old-school style, with busted neon signs flickering as careless passerby flood through the city streets. It's near unnoticeable among the homogeneous high-rise buildings that pollute the cityscape.

“Prompto,” Ignis looks back at him with a bit of hesitation. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“Never judge a book by it's cover, they say,” he smirks.

Prompto takes Ignis by the wrist, dragging his slightly begrudging face into the restaurant. Unlike his usual wear, Ignis opted for something more casual. A plain, button-up shirt, simple pattern, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and buttons undone to reveal a bit of his collarbone and chest. His shoes, sleek, black sneakers almost like basketball shoes, and form-fitting jeans, are unlike anything he usually wears, instead stolen from Prompto for being too oversized.

Ignis, unlike anything Prompto had ever seen, is completely out of his element here. A fish out of water left floundering by Prompto's side.

Prompto, meanwhile, has a bomber jacket, cheaply made though looks good enough to pass for anything expensive and underneath he's wearing an old soccer tee.

As they make their way inside, the first thing that catches Prompto's eyes are the decorative neon signs, mirroring the ones on the outside, and retro posters that line the walls.

He turns back to Ignis, unsure of what exactly his faces says. He could be awestruck at the establishment, but equally so he could be looking around in disgust. The restaurant doesn't look bad, per say, but when Prompto looks closer he notices a few chipped tiles along the floor and places where the wallpaper starts to peel back. A bit dingy, all things considered.

“Hey, are you okay?” Prompto asks as they begin to sit down in one of the booths. “You look a bit freaked out, which is like, the opposite of Ignis.”

Ignis shakes his head. “I'm fine,” he insists, though in the same way he might insist after a night of stressfully downing a whole pot of coffee.

“You sit tight, okay?” Prompto says with a wink, while he points two finger guns at Ignis. “I'll get ya a milkshake to make you feel better.”

Every now again, as he makes their order and chats with the waitress, he looks back to see Ignis, shiftier than his usual self. Definitely on his guard, though Prompto doesn’t really understand why. Or maybe, Ignis is so used to being on guard that when he doesn't have to be, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Soon enough, they've got two chocolate milkshake for all their troubles and a slightly-less-freaked-out Ignis, half sipping his drink and half looking out the window onto the dark streets of Insomnia. His face, partially illuminated by the glowing neon signs and turned to the side to reveal his sharp jawline, looks as gorgeous as it always does.

He averts his eyes from Ignis, face redder than Ifrit, and goes back to sipping his milkshake, blowing bubbles with the straw.

“Sorry if this is, uh, if this isn't really your style,” Prompto says.

Then, all of sudden, Ignis starts to chuckle. “I'll admit I'm not used to being in these kind of places,” he says. “But having you here makes it feel a lot more familiar.”

“So you don't hate it?”

“No, of course not. It's curious, but not in a bad way,” Ignis says with another laugh. His smile is slight bit still more than enough to make Prompto's heart melt. “Really, it's a shame I don't get to go out and simply _relax_ as often as I'd like. So I appreciate these dates of ours when they happen.”

Prompto blushes, perhaps even more than he already was. He and Ignis have already been dating for months, but even the sound of the word “date” seems so odd to him. Odd, though never in a bad way.

He leans in and kisses Ignis on the cheek. A lucky man he is, the luckiest in the world.


	8. well-worn book bindings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: prompto reading stories for ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the prompt luce, it sounded so incredibly cute that i had to do my own take on it! please enjoy!

Through the perpetual darkness, Ignis finds ways to get by. Everyone does, everyone has to. The necessity of survival had been thrust upon even the most unprepared, and those who rejected it found themselves falling behind and choking on the ashes of yesterday.

But above all else, Ignis finds himself missing the most menial of pleasures. The lazy days spent aimlessly reading through council reports or scribbling notes incessantly for His Majesty’s convenience. At that time, he didn’t appreciate the simplicity of it all, if a bit repetitive. Just once more, he desperately grasps for those moments, memories that slip away into the everlasting darkness that clouds both Lucis's skies and himself.

He’d take anything to have a little sunlight again.

Right now, he finds himself in a makeshift little apartment they’ve begun living in, barely worthy of being called a _home,_ built above the gas station at Hammerhead. It’s barely worthy of being called a home and yet more often than not it’s become a home for the weary and restless souls of the Kingsglaive. Gladio, who travels back and forth between Lestallum and Hammerhead, had once called it the _“the best pile of shit this side of Lucis.”_ And he wasn’t wrong about that.

Ignis’s ears prick up slightly as he hears the door unlock. With the crunching of heavy leather boots and rattle chains, he immediately recognizes it as Prompto, alongside the scent of ash and rust that follows him everywhere.

“Back from the hunt already, love?” he says.

Ignis feels a soft kiss against his cheek. “Less of a hunt and more of a haul this time,” Prompto says.

Something heavy is propped down on their delicate glass coffee table, heavy enough that Ignis is momentarily worried it’ll shatter the glass.

“Books from the good ol’ Lucian Archive,” Prompto says. “Insomnia’s still too dangerous to breach but we were cleaning out the other libraries as best we could. Any salvaged is worth it at this point.”

Prompto’s voice wanders as he speaks, only to prop himself back down on the chair opposite of Ignis. He takes a sip of something, accompanied by some ice clattering against the glass. He leans back in his chair, the rough material of his pants scratching against their ripped suede sofa.

Prompto takes one book from the stack and reads the cover out loud. _A Brief History of Insomnian Civil Strife_ , he reads _._ Something Ignis studied extensively in his teen years. And although he can’t _technically_ read it anymore, he could recite it like the back of his own hand.

Meanwhile, Ignis reaches across the stack and pulls the first book he can grab. A thin book, perhaps only a child’s book or a novella at most. It’s hardcover and the inside pages feel a little worn and torn.

For some reason, Ignis’s face starts to feel hot. He opens his mouth to speak, though hesitates for a moment. A thought crosses his mind, just for a moment. It’s a stupid thought. He’s in his thirties now, hardly the same as the fleeting memories he may hold of his childhood. Too much has changed since then, too much is at stake. Then again, perhaps Ignis is only trying to make up for lost time.

“Prompto,” he says, a bit too sternly, and a bunch of chains rustle in response. “This book. Could you read this one for me?”

He holds out his hand and lets the book fall from his grasp. Prompto lets out a little laugh, something that comes less often these days.

“I remember I had this when I was a kid,” the utter _joy_ in Prompto’s voice is a welcome surprise. Prompto continues thumbing through the pages. So clearly, Ignis can imagine his grin, a smile that continues to soft as he grows older. He knows that smile well, as he’s traced his fingers over the lines of Prompto’s face and felt the dimples on his cheeks.

Almost theatrically, Prompto begins reading from the first page. He’d be good with kids, Ignis thinks, from his sheer candor and delight as he begins to read on. The book tells a predictable but ever-so heartwarming story of a baby bat trying to reunite with his mother. A tale of love, family, and friendship in a hard time.

When Prompto finishes the last page and closes the book, he lets out a little sigh. Not disappointed, but instead he sounds proud of himself. Ignis’s face is feeling hot again, though the feeling doesn’t bring him any discomfort. It’s like the warmth that would rise in his chest after finishing a cup of coffee. A domestic feeling, maybe? That’s the best way he can describe it to himself.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a bedtime story,” Ignis jokes as he leans back in his seat, arms crossed over the front of his chest.

Prompto laughs again. “You and me both,” he says. ”Seems like we hauled a lot of random kids books out of this pile.”

“Then read me another bedtime story sometime,” Ignis says. Prompto might think he sounds half-joking, but he makes himself utterly sincere. “The long nights feel much better when you’re around to share them.”

Initially, Prompto doesn’t reply. Stuck for words? Or caught in contemplation? Eventually, he lets out a little hum in approval and takes another sip from his glass.

Ignis hears that familiar rustling of chains until it’s coming closer behind him. And then, two muscular arms wrap around his body and a scruffy chin is resting over his head.

Ignis lets the gentle warmth engulf him, until he’s drawn deeper into the weary night. It’s been a long few years, but he knows they’ll make it through okay. As long as he holds onto the small moments of levity, he won’t forget why travelling through this utter hell was worth it in the first place.


End file.
